


Finish Line

by MellytheHun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Anxious Stiles Stilinski, Board Games, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone's Got Baggage, F/M, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Prompt Fic, School Reunion, Scott is a Good Friend, Sterek Writers Network, honestly just read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writerdragonfly of Tumblr and AO3 prompted me: He skips his class reunion to play board games in the parking lot with his high school crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finish Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writerdragonfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/gifts).



> The very beginning of the story, Stiles is narrating about having a panic attack, taking Xanax (for those of you that may not know, Xanax is a very popular anti-anxiety medication that is good for fast-acting relief from panic and anxiety attacks, but it does make people a little loopy) and the game I describe them playing is my favorite board game that I used to play with my friends in high school. At the end of this ficlet, they get into some heavy topics about rough patches in their lives. Nothing is in detail, but get ready for lulz followed by some heavy feels.
> 
> This fic is heavily inspired by this quote: 
> 
> “I’m just dying to say, ‘Hey, do you ever feel like jumping off a bridge?’ or ‘Do you feel an emptiness inside your chest at night that is going to swallow you?’ But you can’t say that at a cocktail party.
> 
> — Paul Gilmartin, The Mental Illness Happy Hour
> 
> This fic is rated M for a ton of cursing, prescription medication use and discussion of mental illnesses, traumas and straight up fears of adulthood.

Leaning against the cool brick of the building, Stiles pulls out his cellphone to text Scott about why he walked out. It’s not like he’s not enjoying seeing everybody he’s ever hated leading lucrative and fulfilling lives and all, but his anxiety just spiked out of control and he had brought his Xanax with him in the event that he had some sort of meltdown and well…

This doesn’t exactly qualify as a meltdown, but he’d like his heart to stop doing the fucked up thing it’s doing and maybe if he takes his Xanax, he’ll feel a little less horrendous? 

_Ugh. This is not how 26 is supposed to feel._

He sighs dramatically and starts walking around the corner of the building, slipping the pill onto his tongue.

He’s texting Scott something brief about walking outside to get some air and making mention that Scott will have to drive them home since he’ll be under the influence, but then he sees the sheen of black hair in the moonlight and looks up from his phone. All at once he nearly drops his phone, chokes on his pill and then he falls down into a crouch behind a silver porsche. 

He hears someone say, “did you hear that?” followed by muffled responses. 

There are three or four people sitting out there. He can’t determine whose voice is whose. He doesn’t really care either.

He shakily clicks on the phone icon from Scott’s contact info bar and when Scott picks up, he breathes out hurriedly, “holy shit, oh my God, Scott - get out here - oh my God - Derek Hale is here - why is Derek Hale here - everything is awful - honestly just set me on fire - I’m behind a gaudy porsche please come rescue me -”

Stiles’ palpitations get worse for a while but then he sees Scott come around the corner of the building and he violently waves Scott over. Scott stays crouched, with his arms out like he’s in a heist movie or something and Stiles rubs at his temple for patience.

When The Eagle has fucking landed, he finally asks, “what’s wrong?”  


“ _Derek Hale is here_ , that’s what’s wrong,” Stiles hisses.  


“I thought you liked Derek Hale?”  


Stiles’ eyes go wide, sarcastically disbelieving and then Scott seems to understand.

“Ah,” Scott says with meaning, “Why would he be here? He graduated a year before us?”  


Stiles makes some sort of frustrated exhale and then glances behind the back tire of the porsche to steal a glimpse of Derek.

“Scott, he’s so hot it’s ruining my life.”  


Scott snorts.

“He is literally ruining my life right now. He took out a loan in my name and defaulted, that’s how hot he is.” 

“Stiles, this is ridiculous. Just go talk to him.”

Stiles gives him an outrageous expression, “are you out of your mind? Do you remember the one time I tried to talk to him?”

“You mean the single event in high school where he gave you a scantron in the hallway because you announced to everyone that you didn’t have one?”  


Stiles’ brow furrows and Scott smirks.

“When you say it like that -”  


“You didn’t try to talk to him,” Scott interrupts.  


“I… definitely tried to _think_ about talking to him,” Stiles defends.  


Scott is still smiling, shaking his head. 

Stiles goes to look around the tire again and there he is in all his grown-up glory. He’s sitting with his old clique - a boy Stiles only ever knew by the name of Boyd, Erica Reyes and Isaac Lahey. Then it occurs to him that those were all people in his grade and not Derek’s. Maybe that’s why he’s here?

“He grew into his ears,” Stiles murmurs softly, like that should explain everything.  


Scott tilts his head like a confused dog. 

Stiles only sees it in his periphery and doesn’t meet Scott’s eyes to complain, “oh my God, you can’t understand. You’re too tragically heterosexual to understand this.”

“Stiles, I’m not too heterosexual to understand crushes,” Scott chuckles.  


Stiles turns his head to face Scott, but keeps his body pressed against the tire and facing the spot in the parking lot where Derek is. 

“He used to be _cute_ , okay?” Stiles mutters, “He was _cute_. He was angsty and didn’t know what to do with his hair for a few years - I wanted to hold his hand, hear what his sneezes sounded like because they were probably adorable -”  


Scott does not seem to understand that particular curiosity, but Stiles powers through his confused expression.

“He looks like a porn star now, alright? This is _not_ okay! Holding hands would be great - superb, even! But now I…”  


He looks over the tire again and sighs out, “he looks _beautiful_ now.”

Scott claps his thighs and says, “okay, I’m already done with this secret pining. You gotta stop with this. The secret pining never gets you anywhere.”

Stiles starts a retort but is then shocked into silence at Scott standing up and walking out from behind the car. He hears Scott whisper, “you should join us,” before calling out, “Derek Hale?”

He hears a deep, velvety voice answer, “Scott McCall?”

“It’s great to see you, man!”  


“It’s great to see you,” Derek replies, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without Stilinski.”  


Stiles’ heart throbs.

“Oh, yeah,” Scott laughs, “We’re still really tight.”  


“Is he… not here?” Derek asks.  


“Oh, he’s inside -”  


Stiles can’t endure the torture longer than that, so he abruptly stands up and announces, “nope! No, he isn’t! He is outside. Outdoors. He’s right here. In the open like a frightened gazelle grazing under the scrutiny of lions! Totally in existence right here in the parking lot, making noises with his face. Right here.”

Scott is grinning and he hates Scott right now, but more than that, he’s quite relieved to see Isaac and Erica and Boyd smirking and laughing.

“I always liked your self-deprecating sense of humor,” Erica mentions.  


It’s now that Stiles realizes they are all sitting around a board game with several decks of cards. While looking down at the display, he asks, “what are you all doing out here?”

“We’re playing Finish Lines,” Isaac explains, “you guys wanna sit in for it?”  


“Sure!” Scott answers, taking a seat next to Isaac.  


Stiles, looking at Isaac asks, “how do you play?”

“Uh, we don’t really play by the actual rules,” Isaac laughs, looking to Boyd.  


Boyd picks up, “we gave up on the board pieces a while ago. The idea now is just point-keeping. You choose a genre, like movies and television or music or politics or literature and then someone reads off half of a quote from a card of that genre. The goal, besides getting at least one of each topic card, is for you to recall how to finish that quote correctly, word for word. If you get the quote right within three tries, you get the point and you keep the card. If you don’t get it by the third try, you’re skipped and we all mock you.”

Stiles snorts and then he vaguely hears Derek telling Erica to move over. He involuntarily looks over, his eyes immediately drawn to Derek’s. They’re shimmering like sapphires in the dark. His throat clicks and Derek pats the asphalt, inviting him to sit there.

“Sit next to me.”  


Erica is giving him a leering sort of stare that he has no idea how to read and Scott is completely transparent. Like an overzealous mother crying at graduation when her child’s name is called.

Stiles forces his legs to move and is pretty relieved when he can let his lanky, anxiety-tense body crumple to the ground without it being weird.

“We’ll go a round or two before choosing you, so you can see how it’s done,” Isaac says, the decks of cards in his lap, “I just went, so now it’s my turn to ask Erica.”  


He looks to her and asks, “what topic do you want?”

“Politics,” she says.  


Stiles looks at the cards laid out in front of her feet - one yellow and two red. He can tell by the titles at the top of them that yellow is for Literature and the red cards are Music. She must be trying to get a blue card, which is what Isaac pulls out from the entirely blue deck.

“Okay, finish this line - _People who are wise, good, smart, skillful or hardworking…_ ”  


“Don’t need politics, they have jobs!” Erica finishes confidently, “My dad used to say that all the time!”  


Isaac claps for her and then asks, “do you know who said it?”

Derek leans over to Stiles and whispers closely, “you get an extra point if you know who said it.”

Stiles blushes and nods, really wishing his prescription was stronger.

“Oh my God, I have no idea,” Erica complains, “that’s so unfair - this game is old as balls and my dad would take credit for Shakespearean sonnets if you let him get away with it!”  


“Incorrect!” Isaac chirps sarcastically as Boyd laughs, “As it turns out, it was not your father - it was P.J O’Rourke, a name I both admire and find hilarious.”  


He puts a fourth line beside three strikes on a notepad beneath Erica’s name, then passes her the notepad and cards. She pats Stiles’ shoulder and says she’s skipping him so he can better watch and understand before joining the game. She looks to Derek and asks, “what topic do you want?”

Derek has two blue cards, one red card and one orange card. He says, “literature,” and then Erica sifts through the yellow deck, staring at some and putting them back, vocally deeming them too easy until she picks one out and reads, “ _Too much of anything is bad, but…_ ”

“ _Too much of good whiskey is barely enough_ ,” Derek finishes.  


Isaac and Erica both groan in annoyance, obviously upset that Derek has apparently been winning for a while. 

“That was Mark Twain, by the way,” Derek says, winking at Stiles.  


Stiles makes a horrible, nervous laugh, but no one seems to notice because Erica is grumbling obnoxiously about how Derek doesn’t deserve the extra points because he’s already winning. She puts another dash under his name on the notepad, though, then passes it to Derek and they go around the circle like that for a while. Derek to Boyd, Boyd to Scott, Scott to Isaac, Isaac to Erica, Erica to Stiles and then Stiles to Derek. 

After half an hour, Stiles has relaxed more and watching Boyd feign confidence and give complete shots in the dark for lines he obviously doesn’t recognize is incredibly entertaining; Erica is so loud and moves around so much with everything she says, she’s a one-man show. When Isaac screws up all three tries on a politics quote, he wraps his scarf around his face and just falls backward onto the asphalt, groaning angrily into the cashmere. Scott is struggling to get a Literature card and Stiles is neck-to-neck with Derek when Scott suggests that they switch the rotation.

The game ends at 15 points, if any one person reaches it. Stiles has 13 and so does Derek. Stiles is more anxious about losing to Derek now than he was about sitting down with them and that’s got him in good spirits. He’s good at getting the quotes, but he hardly ever knows who said them and that’s where Derek will likely beat him. All Derek needs is to get the quote and the speaker correct and he wins the game. Stiles will probably need two more turns to win and Derek has only flopped on two cards thus far.

He chooses Music when Boyd asks him for a topic and he actually loses the turn - Stiles, lax and feeling silly chides him loudly for not appreciating Britney Spears enough during her golden era. Derek does not seem to understand her significance, but even Stiles can tell that he seems to enjoy being jokingly chastised about it.

He turns to Stiles and asks Stiles what topic he wants. The only card Stiles needs more of is TV and Movies, so that’s what he chooses. It’s tense and quiet while Derek searches for a card in the orange deck. Isaac whispers something to Scott that makes Scott choke on air and hold his chest. Erica mutters that she’s putting twenty-five bucks on Stiles for the win and Boyd says he’ll double that bet for Derek’s win. Whenever Erica and Boyd’s eyes meet, there’s fireworks. Stiles isn’t sure if they’re together or if they ever have been, but he thinks they should probably leave together.

It’s right then that he realizes how fucking glad he is that he’s not standing around inside with all these people that he’s hated for years, making small talk about the weather and pretending that he loves his job and like he doesn’t notice the judgmental reactions he gets when he says he’s single. All they were talking about were what classmates were already dead by horrible circumstances, that one kid in their grade who is serving fifteen years for child pornography and was all over the local news for months, the teachers that have retired since their graduation - it’s all just macabre and awful. 

It’s sort of chilly outside, but being on the ground with Derek and his friends is such a warm, pleasant comfort, he’s overcome with fondness for them all. He can’t imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else.

“Okay. Finish this line,” Derek says gravely, cocking a dramatic brow at Stiles.  


“Come at me, bro,” Stiles eggs him on, smiling with gladness that is mistaken for confidence.  


“ _Faster than a speeding bullet…_ ”  


Stiles’ expression slackens. 

When a long pause is enough for everyone to realize he doesn’t know the quote, Scott yells at him, “dude! You love comic books! How do you not know this??”

“Shut up!” Stiles grins, “I’m _thinking_! _God_ , I was a Marvel comics guy, not a DC comics guy!”  


“Well, at least he knows it’s Superman,” Boyd comments.  


Derek shushes him and Boyd trades a look with Erica.

“…faster than a speeding bullet…” Stiles repeats to himself, rubbing his chin.  


“Oh my God, this is killing me,” Scott complains, hiding his face in his hands.  


Derek points at Scott and chuckles, “don’t you fuckin’ say anything, McCall!”

“I’m not gonna!”  


“You better not!”  


“I won’t!”  


“FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BULLET,” Stiles interrupts loudly, trying to focus, “…stronger than a -”  


Isaac makes an obnoxious buzzer noise and Derek tsks before saying, “sorry, Stiles. Second try.”

“What??” Stiles asks, “isn’t that how it goes?? Faster than a speeding bullet -”  


“Don’t waste your second try!” Scott yells, “Stiles, _think_!”  


“Oh my God!” Stiles complains, then he’s frozen as Derek takes his hand.  


Derek’s hand is so broad, so warm and a just little coarse. He’s so gentle with Stiles, it almost pains him. His skin is alight under Derek’s touch. It’s like a dream and at the same time he’s dedicating every thread of Derek’s skin and what it feels like against his to memory, he really wishes he never knew how exciting and blissful Derek’s long fingers felt against his own.

“How about this,” Derek murmurs softly, like he and Stiles are conspiring, “I’ll give you a little help, since you’ve been such a good competitor.”  


Derek’s sea foam eyes are so close now, his lashes are so thick and so dark they bring contrast to the gold flecks in Derek’s irises. His lips are full, his stubble is so perfectly trimmed and his bone structure is like something carved into marble. He’s leaning over his crossed legs with his elbows on his knees so that the collar of his sweater is dipping enough that Stiles can see the shadows of his clavicle and just a little bit of chest hair and it’s making Stiles _sweat_.

“Uhm… okay,” Stiles whispers back nervously.  


“ _Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful…_ ”  


Stiles stares blankly back at him and Derek starts to smirk again while Scott is pulling at his hair and yelling, “STILES. GOD DAMN IT, STILES, YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS!”

Stiles twists to glare at Scott and exclaims, “I DIDN’T WATCH THIS STUPID CARTOON, OKAY?? I WAS WATCHING FUCKED UP SHIT LIKE REN AND STIMPY, ALRIGHT??”

“STILES, THIS IS COMMON KNOWLEDGE!”  


“UUUGGGGHHHH, OH MY _GOD_!”  


Stiles holds his forehead with his free hand for a while, having forgotten that Derek is still holding his right hand tightly and he can feel Derek’s smug joy coming off in waves. 

“Oh my God, okay…okay… faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a…”

After a few beats, he picks his head up, Scott is still holding onto his own scalp and he stares up at Derek hopefully, “…train?”

“OH MY GOD,” Scott screams, falling over onto the ground and turning over onto his stomach.  


Boyd and Erica are laughing at him and Isaac is laughing at Scott and he’s not sure what he’s done wrong. He looks up at Derek again and asks, “am I totally off the mark?”

“You are very close,” Derek says with a grin as sweet as the Grinch, “Third time’s the charm.”  


Scott is making loud noises into the ground with his ass in the air and Isaac is hiding his face in his knees while he shakes with laughter that’s starting to make him cry. Erica and Boyd both have their hands worryingly close to their wallets.

“It’s train, though, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, “I definitely remember it being a train!”  


“STILES, I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU,” Scott yells into the ground, making Isaac fall backwards and roll around on the ground with him.  


“WHAT AM I DOING WRONG,” Stiles begs, “IT’S A TRAIN. IT HAS TO BE A TRAIN. IT’S A TRAIN, OH MY GOD -”  


“STILES!”  


“SCOTT! STOP YELLING AT ME, IT IS A TRAIN!”  


“OH MY GOOOODDDDDDDDD!”  


Stiles grips Derek’s hand harder, but doesn’t notice Derek’s ears and cheekbones going dark. 

“It’s a train, right? I have a visual in my head, there is a train - it’s a train, it _has_ to be a train.”  


“STILES -”  


“Well, your visual isn’t _wrong_ ,” Derek says, revealing absolutely nothing.  


Stiles lets go of Derek’s hand and stands up, starts pacing and rubbing his hair.

“Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a…a…”  


Scott has been reduced to loud sobbing noises and even Boyd is starting to shake while he barely hides his grin behind his hand.

“This is horse shit!” Stiles shouts, throwing his arms in the air, “It’s a train! I know for a fact that it is a fucking train!”  


Scott falls into a fetal position and makes guttural noises into his hands while Isaac cackles up at the night sky.

“IT’S A TRAIN!” Stiles yells.  


“Is that your final guess?” Derek asks.  


“IT’S A TRAIN, I KNOW IT IS A TRAIN!”  


“ _Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive_.”  


Stiles starts shaking and in hysterics, falls to his knees and shouts at the Heavens like they’ve betrayed him, “LOCOMOTIVVVVEEEEEE, UUGGHHH GOD DAMN IT! LOCOMOTIVE!”

“I HATE YOU SO MUCH,” Scott yells.  


Stiles falls over onto the ground, red-faced from yelling and teary-eyed from laughing. He turns his head and bumps against cool jeans. He looks up and sees that his face is directly next to Derek’s knee. He blushes a little more, smiling dreamily, high on endorphins and a little bit off of his meds. He just _feels_ so good and everyone’s laughter _sounds_ so good and Derek _smells_ so good and _looks_ so good and everything about his aching stomach and burning face is amazing and wonderful and _good_.

Derek leans on his knees again, bringing his handsome face dangerously close to Stiles’. A few strands of his frustratingly perfect hair falls out of place and makes him look even more delectable. He is smiling gently.

“It’s your turn to read a card for Erica. Can you sit up?”  


“No,” Stiles lies, smiling back.  


Derek tilts his head curiously and mumbles back, “that’s fine,” before slipping his hands beneath Stiles’ arms and hoisting him upwards and back. Derek spreads his legs, dragging Stiles’ torso to come rest up against his own. Stiles can feel the pounding Derek’s heart against his back and it’s intimate and Derek’s body is so hot, he wonders how Derek could possibly be comfortable in that sweater. Derek hands the decks of cards to Stiles, props his head over Stiles’ shoulder and says, “ask the lady what topic she wants.”

Stiles is past nerves and artificial highs - he can’t even comprehend that Derek Hale has his arms wrapped around his waist, holding Stiles close to him. It’s too much to compute. 

She chooses Music and they all end up singing Fat Bottomed Girls by Queen and everyone’s letting out incredulous laughter as Isaac knows all the words and keeps the beat perfect by clapping his hands together, getting way too into his role as the leading Freddie Mercury. 

Derek wins the game, but then Erica insists that they play again and they turn in their cards, turn to a new page in the notepad and spend the next two hours out there, shouting and singing and laughing themselves into tears. As people start leaving the auditorium and going to their cars to leave, they stare and maybe mumble things about ‘what weirdos,’ but Stiles isn’t bothered at all.

Everyone is very invested in Scott finishing this famous Nixon quote when Stiles sees Jackson Whittemore escort Lydia Martin out to that silver porsche he had been hiding behind. Jackson sneers at them, like they’re so juvenile and Stiles would feel bad for Jackson’s inability to actually feel joy or love if he wasn’t such a dick. As the car pulls out and drives off, Stiles mutters, “I should’ve known that obnoxious porsche belonged to as obnoxious a person.”

Derek’s stubble tickles Stiles’ cheek and neck and his voice is smooth, low and raspy from laughter when he whispers back, “you know I punched his face once.”

Stiles turns his head to look into Derek’s eyes, the tips of their noses brushing.

“Are you joking?”  


Derek is staring at Stiles’ mouth and it’s making Stiles’ body overheated.

“I did,” Derek says finally, moving his eyes back up to Stiles’, “He got a restraining order taken out on me.”  


“Oh my God, he would,” Stiles comments, rolling his eyes, “why’d you hit him, though? I mean, besides just being a good Samaritan and doing your community a service?”  


Derek smirks and Stiles can _feel_ Derek’s lips move he’s so close.

“He cracked a joke about your nose, so I went to put a crack in his.”  


Stiles’ heart bumps and he asks softly, “…are you serious?”

Derek nods, is still staring too intently, still breathing far too closely. 

Stiles turns away, needing to calm the pace of his heart. He touches gingerly at his nose and mutters, “that douche _would_ attack my insecurities. I hate my nose.”

“You shouldn’t,” Derek tells him, “It’s adorable.”  


Stiles smiles, his shoulders scrunching up a little bit. He rubs himself back against Derek and encases Derek’s hands still wrapped around his front, like it’s the closest he can get to hugging him.

“Thanks.”  


“No problem.”  


The parking lot is entirely empty by 2am and they are still out there, long done with the game, but catching up about each other’s lives. Erica talks about majoring in marine biology and this special internship she had in Hawaii where she got to scuba dive with her class and see some of the coolest shit she can imagine. She also mentions that her parents divorced and her mother is a mess, dating someone Erica’s age and they’re not speaking. She says that she feels like she’s lost her mom forever.

Boyd talks about getting his Associates at BHCC, then deciding he didn’t want to continue school. He got a certification in welding and he works in a body shop in town - he manages it and makes good money. He mentions that the guy that owns the place has Alzheimer’s and Boyd spends a lot of time taking care of him like the guy were his own father. He talked about the future of the shop with the guy during a more lucid day and, Mark, the owner, this old man, told Boyd he’s leaving the shop and all that’s left to his name to Boyd because he’s the closest thing he ever had to a son and a family. Boyd wipes at his eye but shares more about visiting memory care facilities and how he’s been saving up every penny to hopefully put him somewhere with quality care.

Scott talks about his dad interrupting his life for a year with multiple D.U.I’s and unannounced visits and how all the drama cost him semesters of time so that it took him three and a half years to actually complete his Associates and how he finished veterinary school and is still an assistant right now, but is looking into going back to school so he can eventually open his own practice. He mentions that he’d like to eventually settle down in Beacon Hills again someday, but he wants to see the world and he doesn’t know how in the Hell to afford it.

Isaac talks about getting a full scholarship to NYU for fashion design and how he blew it all because he partied too much. He talks about having to return home, how everything felt like a failure, his body was ill and useless for a while, his mind even more so and for even longer. He struggled with depression, for a few months could hardly get out of bed even on good days and how his older brother took him in so he didn’t have to stay with their abusive father. He talks about how his brother got him back on track, he’s back in school, working part time for a divorce attorney as a personal secretary and all the fucked up stuff he sees in the paper work. He says he’s hopeful and in just another three semesters, he’ll have his Bachelor’s. 

Derek shares that he got a full ride scholarship for basketball at Berkeley. He was doing fine and then his youngest sister went missing. He came home, dropped everything, fought with his parents non-stop, only found solace in his older sister, Laura and how they’ve grown so close. He says he doesn’t expect they’ll ever find Cora or ever know what happened to her, but he goes to group therapy, he has dinner with his sister every Friday night and is a Beacon Hills firefighter, has been for years now. He likes what he does, but wonders all the time if he’s wasting his life or his potential. He mentions that he didn’t go to his own class reunion last year because he was too embarrassed and ashamed, didn’t want to be bombarded by questions about his sister by insensitive classmates, but then he smiles and says that he had more friends in the grade below him anyway. He smiles at Boyd and Erica and Isaac and they smile back at him.

Stiles waits for a while, soaking in everyone’s stories and realizing that they are all just as fucked up as he is. They all made mistakes, their families are all dysfunctional, their lives weren’t the fake, perfect made-up-of-Facebook-posts types of lies he was hearing inside the auditorium. Everyone is so genuine right here and Stiles is frightened about leaving them, leaving this parking lot, leaving the security of Derek’s arms, scared he’ll never feel this close to people again like he does right now. Scared he’ll never feel this free again, this young again, this in-tune and in sync with everyone and everything ever again.

He admits on a shaky breath that he’s trying to write a novel, nearly lost his father to a bottle of Jack and how his anxiety spiraled so out of control he was taking four different antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications daily, still having panic attacks, that Scott drove him to the hospital four different times because he was sure he was dying. He talks about how sometimes, he wanted to. Then he talks about how his father got sober and they’re repairing their relationship slowly. Stiles is working as an editor right now, but he doesn’t want to talk about it or think about it. He just wishes he had more time to sit on the beach or write at his kitchen table. How he wishes so desperately for a sense of relief.

Isaac asks him how bad the anxiety got and Scott mentions that Stiles was hospitalized for a short period. Isaac doesn’t press for more information and Stiles is grateful for that. The dark morning hours grow colder and eventually, Boyd says he needs to go home because he’s got to be up for work in three hours. Erica mentions that she took off work because she knew she’d either have a blast and stay all night or leave early and drink herself into a coma to escape the social discomforts. Isaac mutters that he probably ought to go home too and Derek grips Stiles’ hands when Stiles squeezes his nervously. 

Scott stands up with Isaac and Boyd and Erica. They all trade contact information, talk about getting together soon and they even hug before parting ways. Erica gives Derek a kiss on the cheek, Boyd claps his shoulder and Isaac kisses his temple and does the same to Stiles. Stiles isn’t sure what the significance of that is.

Scott lingers for a moment and then says, “I think I’m gonna head home, okay?”

Stiles turns his head to look at Derek and Derek nods, then says, “I’d be glad to take you home.”

They all nod to each other and then Scott walks off, twirling his keys on his index finger and sooner than they realize, Derek and Stiles are alone on the asphalt.

“Do you have work today?” Stiles asks casually.  


“No,” Derek answers, “Took the whole week off. Scheduled a lot of therapy in case this brought up bad stuff.”  


“Did it?”  


Derek shakes his head and says, “no and I’m really glad I came.”

“Me too,” Stiles says, not specifying as to whether or not he’s glad he came or he’s glad Derek came. But he’s glad about both, so either way it works.  


“Come with me.”  


Stiles doesn’t hesitate for a second, just stands and follows Derek to the roof of the art wing - or what was the art wing when Stiles went to Beacon Hills High ten years ago. He thinks they can probably get in an awful lot of trouble for this, but he doesn’t really care.

Derek sits on the edge of the building, letting his feet dangle and he stares out at where the sun is hesitantly rising.

The air is cool and quiet, there are birds flying, but not chirping yet and there’s a twinkling glisten of morning dew covering the football field. 

“You know, I had the biggest fuckin’ crush on you in high school.”  


Stiles drops his head into his hands and bemoans, “oh God and I just told you how fucked up I am.”

Derek laughs and says, “ _you_? I’m seeing my psychiatrist _and_ my psychologist tomorrow.”

Stiles looks down between his knees at the parking lot below and asks quietly, “so, my fucked-upness isn’t a good enough reason to make a U-turn?”

“Not even close to good enough,” Derek replies.  


Stiles sighs, throws his head back, leaning back on his palms.

“I had a big crush on you too.”  


“Why didn’t you say anything?”  


“ _Pfft_! Why do you and Scott say shit like that, like it’s super easy to talk about feelings?? What planet are you two from where that is like a totally reasonable thing to ask??”  


Derek puts his hand over Stiles’ and eventually Stiles adds, “the closest I ever came to telling you was when you gave me a scantron in the hallway.”

“You didn’t even thank me?” Derek laughs.  


“I was nervous!” Stiles laughs back, “Have you caught onto this trend yet?? That I am sort of a nervous person??”  


He turns his head to look at Derek and the sunlight is hitting him beautifully. He’s even more breathtaking in daylight. 

“Okay, finish this line,” Derek starts, making Stiles cock a brow curiously.  


Derek drags his knee up to better face Stiles and Stiles mimics him, still feeling loose and amazed and grateful and sad and wonderful all at once.

“If Derek kissed me right now…”  


Stiles feels his ears get hot and his smile spreads wider than he knows it can go.

“If Derek kissed me right now, that would be hella cool.”  


Derek smiles and Stiles chuckles, “what, you don’t know that song?”

He’s about to add more nervous commentary, but then his lips are busy doing something else entirely.

For Stiles, sometimes life has felt like a race or a game that he’s losing at. He was never able to pass GO and collect one hundred dollars. He was running the track and tripping over every hurdle, scraping each knee and elbow, falling on his face at every jump and now that he’s connected to Derek, to Boyd and Erica and Isaac, now that he knows the game and the race is a clusterfuck of trials for everyone, he doesn’t feel like he’s far from the Finish Line. He doesn’t feel close to it either. He doesn’t really think it exists anymore.

But kissing Derek Hale on the roof of the art wing at Beacon Hills High at 4:13 in the morning sure does feel like a win.


End file.
